What Happens in Vegas
by drewandian
Summary: Episode tag to The Instincts/Memoriam. Inspired by Emily's hangover and her "I hate Vegas" comment.


It wasn't often that they stayed overnight after solving a case, but Hotch had to admit that he was glad they had. Reid was clearly stressed and needed this time with his mom, and his team needed to celebrate their earlier win. It was important to take the little bit of down time where they could find it.

Ordinarily, Hotch would head to his room after dinner to call Jack and relax, but something made him head back down to the casino after they'd said good night. He made his way to the bar and ordered a beer, turning in his seat to scan the room as he drank.

He smiled softly as he caught a glimpse of JJ and Morgan sitting side by side at the slot machines, stealing quarters from one another. Rossi met his eye from the end of the bar, lifting his glass in a silent toast. Most of his team accounted for, Hotch still couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to be in this room.

He scanned the room again, his eyes finally finding Emily at a poker table. She was grinning, pulling her winnings toward her and nodding as the man seated next to her asked her a question. The man motioned to a passing waitress; she returned a few minutes later, drinks for him and Emily on her tray. Emily took the drink with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes and turned back to the game spread out in front of her.

Hotch felt a tightening in his chest, the uneasy feeling he'd had all evening settling over him like a lead blanket. His instinct told him that something was off. He sat back and sipped his beer, keeping watch.

Emily was on a roll – but then she rarely lost at poker. She was a good player, with a poker face like none other. And flashing her dimples (and cleavage) never hurt. She'd won the last five hands, and with each win she'd been awarded with a hand on her back and another free drink. The drinks had been nice, numbing and helping her forget who she was and why she was in Vegas in the first place, but the hand on the back had begun to wander and she was starting to feel like she was being pawed. Her bubble was shrinking and it was setting her on edge.

She searched her brain for his name, things a little fuzzier than she normally let them get. It was there, just out of reach –

His hand landed on her thigh, higher than was acceptable, bordering on inappropriate and her whole body tensed.

She pulled away from him, pushing him back as she tried to stand. His hand clamped down on her leg, keeping her there. The fuzziness began to clear as her head buzzed a warning, his name coming back to her.

"Chad, "she all but growled through clenched teeth; anyone observing would see a smile, although it was tense and didn't reach her eyes. "This isn't really the place – "Her voice trailed off as she tried, unsuccessfully, to remove his hand from her thigh.

"C'mon, babe, lighten up. No one's watching." Chad slid his hand higher, dangerously close to being incredibly intimate. Emily jumped, her hand balling into a fist, ready to strike.

"There you are!" Hotch's warm baritone seeped into her skin and she felt the heat of his hand as he put it on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "I can't let you out of my sight for a single minute, can I?"

Emily felt herself lean back into Hotch, relief bringing the fuzziness back into her head. "No, I don't suppose you can." She felt Chad's hand tighten on her leg again as it moved back down toward her knee.

"Hi, I'm Aaron." Hotch pressed into Emily's back, extending his hand to shake Chad's. "I see you've met my girlfriend, Emily." Chad was left with nothing to do but remove his hand from Emily's knee and take Hotch's. Chad applied more pressure than was necessary in the handshake; Hotch smirked at the typical alpha behavior.

"Nice to meet you." Chad mumbled, briefly meeting Hotch's eyes.

Hotch took Emily's hand in his and helped her to her feet. "If you'll excuse us – "

Chad nodded, his eyes darting back and forth between the two.

Hotch led Emily to where he'd been sitting at the bar, guiding her with his hand on her lower back. He stood behind her as she slid onto the bar stool, Rossi meeting his eye with a raised eyebrow from his seat across the bar. Hotch returned the look with a shrug and a small smirk before leaning down to tell Emily that he'd be right back. She nodded and ordered another drink, turning to scan the room as she drank it.

She frowned slightly as she noticed that Chad was no longer sitting at the poker table. She felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and she tensed, turning her head slightly to meet Chad's eyes.

"Sitting here all alone again?" he leered at her, leaning in close enough that his lips brushed her hair. "Your boyfriend isn't very attentive, is he?"

Emily rolled her eyes and sighed. "Chad, if you know what's good for you, you'll leave me alone and head back to your room."

"Or what? Your big, bad boyfriend will hurt me?" Chad slid his arm further around Emily's shoulders, his fingertips brushing the swell of her breast.

Before she knew what she was doing, Emily's hand curled into a fist and she sent Chad reeling a few inches away from her with a right hook to his jaw.

"What the fuck?! Bitch!" Chad brought his hand up to rub his jaw, backing away slightly as Emily pulled her hand back to swing again. Across the bar, Rossi set his drink down and started to rise, ready to jump in if Emily needed him; he didn't expect she would. His girl could certainly take care of herself, especially with a guy like this jerk.

"I tried to ask you nicely." Emily's voice was low and quiet, little more than a growl. "I'll say it one more time. If I were you, I'd leave me alone and head back to your room."

"You can hit me all you want." Chad moved back into Emily's space, angling himself so that he was slightly out of her reach. "You're not scaring me away; I was perfectly clear about my intentions, and you were perfectly fine with them while I was buying you drinks and throwing poker hands so that you would win. You're coming back to my room with me." He reached down to take her hand, trying to pull her off of the bar stool.

Rossi jumped to his feet and started to move around the bar, as Hotch returned to where he'd left Emily. He got to her in time to see her throw another punch, this one landing on Chad's nose. The sickening crunch that accompanied it made Hotch wince; she'd definitely broken his nose and, at the very least, bruised her hand.

"No means no, asshole. Now let go of my hand and move along." She kept her voice low, growling through clenched teeth. She turned back to the bar and ordered another drink, swallowing it down in one gulp. She ignored his grumbles, making it perfectly clear that she had no more time or attention for Chad.

Rossi continued over, coming up behind Chad. "Let's go, son. You might want to go get that nose looked at." He smirked at Hotch, who nodded his thanks. Rossi led Chad out of the bar as Hotch turned to Emily.

"You all right?"

She nodded as she reached for one last drink. She drank this one slowly, her hand shaking slightly as she brought the glass to her lips.

"Hey." Hotch's voice was little more than a whisper, softer and more gentle than she could remember hearing it in a long time. "Let's head upstairs. Take a look at that hand."

Emily'd lost count of how many drinks she'd had, the fuzziness from the alcohol coming back now that the adrenaline rush was dissipating. She was shaky and sleepy and 'upstairs' sounded perfect. She nodded slowly and let Hotch lead her to the elevator. He kept his hand at the small of her back, steadying her as they walked.

As they waited for elevator, Hotch studied Emily. She was leaning back into his hand, her side pressed to his, closer to him than she normally would be. Her cheeks were flushed from both the alcohol and the encounter with Chad, and her eyes sparkled. He could see why Chad had been interested; with her guard down, off the job and relaxed, she was breath-taking. It wasn't the first time he'd noticed, but it was the first time he'd been this close and personal. Hotch typically kept his distance, it was safer that way.

The doors slid open and he guided Emily inside, pressing the button to take them to his room without even giving it a second thought.

Emily felt herself leaning into Hotch and tried to put some space between them, but the combination of too many drinks and heeled boots just made her sway awkwardly and she wound up pressed into him more. The steady solidness of Hotch next to her made her realize that she'd let her guard down, which is what had led to the mess with Chad. Emily Prentiss was not the kind of woman, who needed to be rescued, but she was certainly glad Hotch and Rossi had been around tonight.

Her hands fluttered in front of her, her nervous habit of picking her nails harder to fight in her buzzed state. She hissed slightly when she bumped her right hand, her knuckles already starting to bruise.

She let Hotch guide her into elevator, didn't point out that her floor was one above his, simply grateful that she wouldn't have to be alone just yet.

She'd always hated Vegas.

Hotch opened the door, guiding Emily into the room ahead of him.

"OK, Rocky," he smirked as she rolled her eyes at him. "I'm going to go fill the ice bucket. Think you can keep yourself out of trouble while I'm gone?"

Emily rolled her eyes again and flopped down onto the end of the bed. "I'm sure I can manage." She grabbed the remote, turning on the television and flipping through the channels. "See, TV, no trouble." She stuck her tongue out at him and shooed him away.

Hotch chuckled as he picked up the ice bucket and headed down the hall to the ice machine. He had forgotten how amusing Drunk Emily was, how she let her control slip and her dry, sarcastic sense of humor shone through even more. He imagined that seeing her this way was a bit like getting a glimpse of teenaged Emily.

He let himself back in the room, laughing lightly when he found Emily sprawled on her stomach in the middle of his bed, her eyes glued to the television. Who knew there were music stations that still played music videos?

She grinned up at him as he made his way across the room to her, a bag of ice in his hand. "Hi!" She scooted over, making room for him to sit next to her, and sat up. She had kicked her boots off, and she tucked her legs under her as she shifted her weight.

Hotch sat down and faced her, taking her right hand into his and gently placing the bag of ice on it.

"Ouch!" she whined with a pout, flinching when the cold hit her bruised knuckles and trying to pull her hand away.

He tightened his grip on her hand and rolled his eyes. "How many times have you been beaten up, had your ribs broken or been shot at, and you're going to pout over an ice pack on some bruised knuckles?" He laughed as she pouted again. "Man up, Prentiss. This is nothing. Maybe you shouldn't have tried to break the poor guy's nose."

"He had it comin', Hotch. I don't appreciate being pawed and manhandled, and buying me drinks doesn't give him the right to." Her cheeks flushed and her eyes shone with indignation and Hotch's heart started to beat a little faster.

So much for propriety and keeping a safe distance, he thought. He knew, however, that this was quite possibly the worst time ever to finally admit that he didn't want to keep his distance anymore.

"I understand, and I agree," He began, his eyes meeting and holding hers, "and I'm not saying you need to be rescued or saved, but Dave and I could have handled it."

"Aw, my knights in shining armor" she deadpanned, batting her eyes and putting the back of her left hand to her forehead, miming a distressed fainting spell. "Please, Hotch, I've been taking care of myself for years. Against guys way worse than our buddy, Chad. It's not the first time I've had unwanted and unwelcomed advances from some creep."

She realized that, interestingly, Hotch was still holding her hand and keeping the ice pack steady. She also realized, even more interestingly, that she didn't mind the contact so much. His hand was warm and solid under hers. Chad's contact may have been unwelcome, but Hotch's certainly wasn't.

She'd been dancing around her growing attraction to Hotch for quite some time, all the while praying he didn't notice. She didn't need or want to complicate their working relationship, and definitely didn't want to jeopardize the friendship that was growing between them. Being this close to him, though, with her hand in his and the alcohol still coursing through her system, it was getting difficult to stick to that.

"Yeah, it must be so hard, being all sexy and gorgeous." The words tumbled out of Hotch's mouth, dripping with sarcasm, before he could stop them.

"Well, no, but, wait, what?"

Hotch flushed, feeling for a minute like he was the one who had been drinking all night. He opened his mouth to back-pedal, not really sure how he was going to manage any damage control.

Emily didn't give him a chance.

Before he could speak, her injured hand tightened around his and she pulled him toward him, her lips crashing into his. The kiss was awkward and sloppy, and over before it could even really get started.

She pulled away with a gasp, her eyes, wide and shining, met his and she grinned at him again. She leaned back in, her eyes sliding closed as she kissed him again, softer this time.

Hotch moaned as he leaned into the kiss, his lips molding to hers, his hand tightening on hers.

Emily cried out at the pressure on her bruised knuckles and Hotch jumped back. "I'm sorry!"

Emily shook her head and pulled Hotch back into her, the ice pack falling to the floor as she kissed him again.

Emily groaned and pulled her pillow over her face. The sunlight was piercing and painful and her head throbbed angrily. She tried to piece together what had happened the night before.

The throbbing head clearly meant she'd had more to drink than she normally did – which always happened when she came to Vegas. Just another reason to hate the town.

The achy hand and bruised knuckles? That took a little longer to click, but then she remembered Chad and his invasion of her space and punching him in the nose. She grimaced and hoped she hadn't broken it; judging by the brilliant purple bruises lining her knuckles, she was pretty sure she had.

She shifted in the bed, pulling the pillow off of her head and sitting up slowly when she heard the faint sounds of water running from the bathroom. She sat up, frowning at the unfamiliar t-shirt she was wearing and the sounds coming from the bathroom – not her bathroom.

Hotch's bathroom.

Hotch's room. Hotch and an ice pack and –

Kissing – lots and lots of kissing. With Hotch. And –

"Oh God. I hate Vegas." She muttered as she moved as quickly as she could, pulling on her pants and gathering her clothes and shoes. She had to get out of there, back to her own room, where she could shower and piece together the rest of the night and come up with a plan. An explanation. An apology.

She heard the water stop as she made her way to the door, just barely slipping through as Hotch stepped out of the bathroom.

She couldn't help it, didn't even really feel bad for telling JJ and Morgan off for that damned slot machine. Didn't care when Rossi was picking on her and her hangover. She had to admit, there was a small part – well, big actually – that was glad Hotch had gone straight to the airport.

She planned to avoid him for as long as possible. Or at least as long as it took to piece together the events of the night before.

She staggered onto the plane, leaving her sunglasses on and not meeting Hotch's eye. The plane was incredibly empty and quiet without Reid, Rossi and Morgan and she couldn't do more than hope that Hotch would believe that she was sleeping throughout the flight home.

She settled into her seat, turned toward the window and slowed her breathing.

Hotch watched Emily as she stumbled onto the plane, smirking a little at her obvious hangover. He'd known when she'd slipped out before he'd finished his shower that she'd be hurting and worried about what had happened the night before.

He'd gone to the airport before the rest of the team to give her the space he knew she'd need and want. She'd been on the team long enough for him to understand her need to remember what had (and hadn't) happened before she confronted him about it.

He was prepared, however, to approach her sooner if she started beating herself up over something that hadn't happened.

He shook his head as she slid into the seat, obviously avoiding eye contact with him and feigning sleep. This would take a while –

They'd been back in Quantico for two days and Emily had done a terrific job of avoiding Hotch unless it had to do with Reid and his dad. Penelope had noticed a little tension between the two of them – mostly from Emily – when they were in her lair, but then JJ had gone into labor and Reid's mom had remembered what happened and it had slipped her mind.

It wasn't until they were in the cafeteria of the hospital, after the baby'd been born and Reid had gotten back, that Penelope remembered. She watched as Hotch handed Emily a cup of coffee and Emily intentionally avoided his eyes as she mumbled her thanks.

She made her way over to Emily as Hotch walked away.

"Hey, gumdrop, what's going on with you and Hotch?"

"What? Nothing. Why?" Emily's cheeks flushed and she fussed with her coffee cup.

"Well, you've avoided him unless he needed help with Reid. And just now, you wouldn't even look at him when he handed you that coffee. What's up?"

"Pen, I – "Emily sighed. "I don't know." Penelope rolled her eyes. "No, seriously, I don't know. That night we spent in Vegas?" Penelope nodded, her lips pressed together as she tried to hold back and keep quiet. "Well, I had *a lot* to drink. Like, a lot a lot."

"I remember; you were pretty rough when you got off the plane the next day." The words just popped out and Penelope winced when Emily glared at her. "Sorry, go on."

"Anyway, there's was this guy, and he got a little handsy and Hotch sort of, I dunno, rescued me, I guess. The guy wouldn't let up, and when he saw me sitting alone, he came over and things got a little out of control."

"Oh no! Hotch didn't hit him, did he?" The tone of Penelope's voice made it clear that she was hoping against hope that he had. It was totally the chivalrous thing Hotch would do.

"Ah – no." Emily smirked at the disappointed look on Penelope's face. "But I'm pretty sure I broke his nose." She held up her hand, showing Penelope her bruised knuckles.

"Well, all right, Wonder Woman!" Penelope laughed as Emily shook her head. "But that doesn't explain –"Emily shot her a look that clearly said she wasn't done "- right, shutting up."

"Hotch got me out of the bar while Rossi dealt with the other guy, took me up to his room, got me ice for my hand. We were sitting there on the bed, talking, and the next thing I remember, I was waking up in his bed, in one of his t-shirts, while he was showering. I know there was kissing. So much kissing." Emily's cheeks were hot, flushing red with embarrassment.

Penelope tried unsuccessfully to hold in her excited squeal and hugged Emily to her. "Oh, oh, I've been waiting for this day! I'm so excited for you!"

"Whoa, whoa, rein that excitement in for a second, Pen." Penelope pouted at Emily's words. "I honestly can't remember what happened, beyond the kissing. The absolutely amazing kissing." She smiled, her mind wandering back, her hand fingers touching her lips as she allowed herself a second to remember. Shaking her head to clear it, she added "I feel awful. I mean, I was drunk, I kissed him first. At least I think I did. What if I pushed him into sex? And now I can't remember. This is a disaster, Pen." Emily groaned, sinking into the chair she'd been standing by and setting her coffee on the table, her head falling into her hands.

Penelope sat beside her, rubbing Emily's back. "Shh, Em, c'mon. Even if you DID come on to him, Hotch wouldn't have taken advantage of you when you were drunk. He's too, too *noble* to do that. And, and, he respects you too much to do that."

"Strangely, Penelope, that doesn't make me feel much better." Emily mumbled into her hands. "This is a mess. And I know I need to just talk to him. Just be honest and clear the air."

Penelope nodded. "He'll understand. He saw how hung over you were – "Her voice trailed off as Emily lifted her head to glare.

"God, I hate Vegas."

Emily found Hotch in the waiting room outside of JJ's room. He was sitting off to the side, away from the crowd, staring into his coffee. She sat down next to him, not sure of where or how to start.

He simply sat, waiting. She sighed, opened her mouth to say something. Anything.

When it felt like an eternity had passed, Hotch broke the silence.

"How's the hand?"

"A little sore, but nothing's broken." She shrugged slightly. "I think Chad's probably worse off." She smiled as Hotch chuckled. "Look, Hotch, about that night – "She shifted, clearly uncomfortable even bringing it up.

"Prentiss. Emily, it's – "he cleared his throat, obviously as uncomfortable as Emily was. "I figured you weren't sure what happened."

"I've been trying to piece it together. Just to make sure there's nothing I should apologize for."

Hotch laughed lightly. "No, nothing to apologize for." She shot him a skeptical look. "Really. I swear."

"Hotch, I remember enough to know that I kissed you. A lot." She whispered.

"And I'm telling you that you don't need to apologize for that." He rested his hand on hers, forcing her to meet his eye. "I didn't – don't – mind." Emily's cheeks flushed as she fully understood what he was telling her. "It stopped there. You were drunk, and as much as I would have liked to explore where it would have gone, I wasn't going to cross any lines when you couldn't make a clear, intentional decision."

Emily's mouth formed a perfect "o" as she turned Hotch's words over in her head. "Hotch, are you saying – "her voice trailed off as he nodded his head slowly. "Oh."

Hotch laughed at the look of surprise on Emily's face. "How about if we try this again? Maybe start at the beginning instead of jumping in half way through?"

Emily nodded, still dumb-founded by Hotch's admission.

He smiled at her, a rare, full-on smile that revealed deep dimples and lit his eyes. "Dinner, tonight? We can celebrate Henry and talk about Vegas."

Emily smiled back at him. "It's a date."

Maybe, she thought, Vegas wasn't so bad after all.


End file.
